Just a Little Unsteady
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: They spend so much time saving one another.:: or four times that Neville and Hannah were each others' salvation, and one time one was too far gone to be saved.


_For Paula, via GGE_

* * *

i.

"Do it," Amycus Carrow urges. "Now. Or would you like me to demonstrate how it's done on you?"

Hannah shakes her head, tears clinging to her lashes. Her wand trembles in her hand as she looks down at the poor girl. Only eleven, just a first year whose dreams of Hogwarts have been shattered by a pair of twisted Death Eaters using the school as their dark playground.

"If you won't-"

"Why don't you leave her alone?" Neville calls out, accompanied by audible gasps all around. "Unlike you, she's a good person, and good people don't go around just cursing other people."

Amycus growls, his face turning a nasty red as he looks at the Gryffindor. "Detention, Longbottom," he says. "And thirty points from Gryffindor. Now, Miss Abbott-"

"She's not going to do it," Neville interrupts. "Is it required that you have to be an absolute idiot to be a Death Eater?"

Hannah's jaw drops. She still remembers when Neville was a quiet, timid kid. The injustice in the school has made him bolder, and she, along with many others, look at him as a hero. Only now, she wishes he wouldn't try to save her. She doesn't want him to get hurt.

"Front of the class, Longbottom. I hear your parents know all about the Cruciatus Curse," Carrow sneers.

Neville winces at the remark but keeps his head held high as he marches to the front. He meets Hannah's gaze and offers her a small smile that quickly fades as the Death Eater yells, "Crucio!"

…

"You didn't have to do that," Hannah says as she walks him from class.

Neville winces with each step, but he shrugs. "You weren't going to torture that girl," he says simply. "The Carrows need to realize that we aren't going to bow to their rules."

Hannah smiles, taking her hand gently in his. "That was really brave of you, Neville," she says softly.

She likes the way he blushes. He's become braver, but he is still humble, still modest, and she wonders if compliments make him uncomfortable.

ii.

Neville almost cries out when he feels hands grip his shoulders and pull him into an empty classroom. Hannah holds a finger over her lips, signaling that he needs to keep quiet.

 _Carrows,_ she mouths.

He nods, his body tense. Outside, footsteps echo.

"Thought I heard something," Amycus says.

His sister laughs. "Always hearing things, aren't you? Why the stuck me with you is beyond me. Bloody idiot."

"I'm telling you, I heard something!"

"Right."

They wait quietly, hardly daring to breathe as the footsteps fade.

"How did you know?" he whispers.

She grins. "Did a bit of recruitment painting," she answers. "I heard them coming. Not very stealthy, are they?"

He nods, impressed. He's been curious as to who has been leaving the Dumbledore's Army graffiti across the school. "You saved me," he says.

"It was the least I could do. What were _you_ doing out of bed anyway?

"I was trying to find a safe place," he answers. "Things are getting bad, and it's only going to get worse. Soon, we're going to need a place to hide."

"I guess it's a good thing I found you, then. Can't have our fearless leader chained up in the dungeons, can we?"

Neville scoffs. He isn't a leader. Harry was. Ginny is. But Neville is just Neville. He's nothing special. He isn't meant to lead the way. And he's certainly not brave. His hands still shake, and his heart still races whenever he acts.

"Don't doubt yourself," she says, opening the door and peering out. "Everyone knows that you're brilliant, Neville. Get over it."

She gestures him forward, signaling that the coast is clear. Neville creeps behind her cautiously.

"You saved me. I'm thanking you. Get over it," he says with a grin.

In the dim light of the corridor, he can see her cheeks stain a soft pink. She looks away quickly. "I'm not a hero. Not like you."

"You're still my hero."

"We should go before they come back."

Neville nods and watches her go before turning the opposite direction.

As he lays in bed, he thinks of how Hannah has changed. Once, she was just a quiet girl, a face lost in the crowd. War has made her stronger, and yet she hasn't let it take away her gentleness. Neville thinks that he likes that about her.

iii.

Hannah groans. Her face is swollen, and the wicked ache matches the rest of her body. She tugs against the chains at her wrists, wincing as the metal digs into her skin.

She wishes that they would just let her die. Two days have passed since her "detention", and she feels close to breaking. It would be a mercy for it to all end. At least she could see her mother again.

But, of course, she will not get lucky. She's heard the Carrows repeat their little rule that they can't shed too much magical blood, that they can only make the children suffer until they're obedient.

The door opens, and her heart races. She closes her eyes and lets her body go limp, praying that they will think she's asleep and leave her alone for a few more hours. She doesn't think she can endure any more suffering tonight.

"Hannah?"

The voice is far too gentle to belong to those vile people. Hannah opens her eyes, a smile pulling at her chapped, cracked lips. "Neville," she says, her voice raspy and dry.

"Susan found me," he says, kneeling beside her and carefully examining her face. "She said they caught you helping a first year escape."

"It hurts," she says.

"Don't worry. I'll get you out of here."

"They'll be back soon."

Neville grins. "Lavender and Ernie are keeping them quite busy right now," he laughs, before muttering a spell. The chains fall to the floor, and he helps her to her feet. "We have to get you to the Room of Requirement."

"So that's where everyone has been disappearing to," she muses. "Makes sense. You were right. Things got worse."

He nods, keeping a steadying arm around her. "I hate that I didn't think of it sooner. We could have avoided so much pain."

"Don't best yourself up over it. Think of all the good you've done now. That's what matters, isn't it?" she asks, groaning as a shock of fiery pain jolts through her leg.

…

Hannah sits on her new bed, eating the cheese and bread that Neville has brought her. "You saved me again," she says.

Neville tucks a bit of her hair behind her ear before dabbing a potion on the cut across her cheek. "I'm guess I'm starting to make a habit of this hero business," he laughs.

She leans against him, her eyes closing. He feels safe, like just being next to him will make everything okay. Neville wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "You should get some rest."

"Will you lay with me? Just until I fall asleep?"

It seems wrong to ask such a thing, maybe even inappropriate. But Neville guides her onto the mattress and lays beside her, stroking her hair and humming what sounds like a lullaby. It's a sweet gesture, comforting. The way it comes so naturally to him, that he doesn't hesitate, makes Hannah think that he understands exactly why she asked.

She wonders if he needs it, too. He's carrying so much on his shoulders. Maybe be just needs to rest and be okay again

Hannah yawns, her eyes too heavy to stay open, her mind too blurred. She'll have to ask him to lay with her more often.

iv.

Neville barely dodges a curse from a Death Eater. He swears under his breath, regaining his balance.

This isn't like their practices for Dumbledore's Army. There's no applause, no words of encouragement. This is the final battle, real life, and Neville is surprised to realize that he's so confident in himself.

"Look out!" Hannah cries.

But it happens so quickly that Neville doesn't have time to react. By the time he turns with his wand drawn, the curse blasts away the marble at his feet, and he falls gracelessly, crashing unceremoniously on the floor below.

Hannah is at his side in an instant. Her eyes are soft as she examines him, though her body is tense, ready for another attack. "Nothing broken," she declares. "Anything hurt?"

"Just my pride," he laughs, sitting up.

Truth be told, a lot more than his pride hurts, but he can't bring himself to tell her that.

"I'm sorry. I tried to warn you, but-"

"You got my attention," he interrupts. "I braced myself. You're still my hero."

There's that blush again. Somehow, Neville can forget for a moment that a battle is being waged all around them. Hannah is there, still so lovely and kind, and he can pretend that everything is going to be okay.

He leans in, caressing her cheek before pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "Thank you," he whispers.

The blush darkens, and he almost laughs. She's so cute when she blushes. But he knows that he can't sit there and admire her all night. There's a war going on, and they have to fight.

He climbs to his feet, and she grabs him by the shoulders, pulling him close and kissing him fiercely. "Come back to me alive," she says quietly.

He smiles, raising his wand. "I plan on it."

…

"You came back alive," she says, smiling. "There was a moment when I was scared you wouldn't."

He still feels numb from the shock of standing up to the Dark Lord. "I was scared I wouldn't either," he admits.

She takes his hand in hers, and he relaxes. The touch doesn't chase away all the nerves and anxiety, but it gives him a small, unspoken promise. _We're alive. We survived. We'll be okay._

v.

Hannah wakes, scream stuck in her throat, covered in beads of cold sweat. Her heart hammers in her chest, and it takes several moments to remember how to breathe.

A dream. A nightmare. Nothing more.

And yet it felt so real. She can still see the destruction and chaos, five years later. The demons still haunt her. Dead everywhere. Wounded crying, reaching pitifully for help that can't arrive fast enough.

Neville sleeps beside her, lost in his dreams, unaware. Hannah can't bring herself to wake him. She climbs out of bed and creeps down to the pub below.

"Just one drink," she says, but she knows that it will take much more to silence the screaming in her head.

…

When the other side of the bed is empty in the morning, Neville doesn't have to wonder where Hannah is. It's a common occurrence. At least three mornings each week, his wife is gone.

With a sigh, Neville climbs out of bed and changes into his robes, triple checking that he doesn't forget his gloves for the greenhouse. He makes his way down to the pub below and finds Hannah asleep at the bar, an empty pint glass on its side by her hand. He wonders how many she drank, but he doesn't want to ask.

"Wake up, love," he whispers, shaking her gently. He reaches for the hangover cure kept behind the counter and places it beside her. "Let's get you some breakfast."

He tells himself that he's going to talk to her. He's going to chase away her pain and kiss her better. But he doesn't know how. Maybe he's gotten so used to this normal, safe life that he's forgotten how to be a hero to the woman who needs him most.

…

Another night, another drink. And then another. Hannah feels the tears fall from her eyes as she refills her glass.

This isn't her. She doesn't want to live like this.

But she doesn't know what else to do. The bottle has become her closest friend over the years. She doesn't know how to set it down anymore.

"Hannah?"

She doesn't want to look at him. After all he's done for her, she's causing him so much pain.

"Come to bed, love," he says gently, guiding her to her feet.

She throws her arms around him, sobbing now. "I'm sorry. I'm so bloody sorry."

"Everything will be okay, love."

She doesn't know how, not when everything feels so far from okay. But when he says those words, she can't help but to believe him.

They'll be okay. Maybe not now. Maybe not soon. But one day. And that's all she needs.


End file.
